


Half a dozen roses

by babyblueew



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Cheating, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt, Ian Carlyle fucks shit up, Kat and Sutton make an appearance, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyblueew/pseuds/babyblueew
Summary: “You are one of the only three people in my life that I could never bare to lose Jane.”
Relationships: Jacqueline Carlyle/Jane Sloan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Half a dozen roses

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I have read every single story on this pairing both on here and on fanfiction.net twice now so I thought that I'd make an attempt at writing them myself. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy reading it, I've put a lot of time and work into this but have not read it through before posting it because it's almost at 15k words and I'm tired and just really want to get it published tonight, might do a readthrough tomorrow to fix any mistakes. 
> 
> Also! There is a sex scene in this which is the first of its kind that I've ever written and I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out but it was still my best try so hopefully it's not too bad. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for switching between british english and american english in this story, I'm more used to british english but I obviously know that it's an american show so for some reason I evidently couldn't decide which vocabulary I'd prefer to write with so this is a hot mix of them both I'm afraid. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy my story!

“That suit has been killing me all day.” Her dark eyes roam over the older woman’s body, from her bright red stilettos to her black, fitted slacks to her white, slightly see-through shirt half-tucked into the slacks in a careless manner, all the way up to her soft, red-painted lips and finally, her piercing blue eyes.

“Is that so?” The blonde woman’s tone is nonchalant, but her eyes betray her true feelings, much like they always do. Blue eyes dart down to appreciate the simple, but form-fitting skirt and blouse that is currently adorning the petite brunette. A tongue darts out to wet suddenly very dry lips. “I could say the same thing about that skirt.” Her statement is flirtatious enough as it is but her tone paints vivid images of pale, porcelain skin meeting older, sun-kissed skin in various scenarios, all of which include obscene nudity and compromising positions.

Now it is Jane’s turn to lick her lips as she lets out a sound somewhere between a growl and a huff. Her eyes darken as she eyes the other woman in a way not dissimilar to an animal observing their prey. The brunette can’t help but to quickly glance around her, ensuring they are truly alone before striding towards the older woman, catching painted lips with her own. The glance would have made the blonde laugh had she not been on the receiving end of said kiss.

Pushing the taller woman against the glass wall surrounding the editor’s office, Jane swiftly moves from the blonde’s lips to her neck, leaving a visible trail of lipstick from the woman’s chin down to her pulse point. Feeling a graze of teeth followed by a gentle, yet purposeful sucking on her neck, Jacqueline lets out a low moan.

“You know…” The open-mouthed kisses move from her neck to her collarbone and a cold hand sneaks up under her shirt, steadily approaching her bra clasp. “You don’t have to look around before kissing me anymore.” A gasp falls out of her mouth, the sound almost echoing with pain as if she had been burned by a freshly lit flame. Perhaps she has been burned too. Burned by the heat that never ceases to spread inside of her at as little as a twinkle in the brunette’s eyes when they’re directed at her. She thinks her insides must give the impression of belonging to a heavy smoker.

A disapproving grunt escapes the blonde when the kisses over her collarbone and the travelling fingers on her back disappear. Hazel meets blue as the younger woman takes a step back, ensuring her proximity to the editor whilst still maintaining her composure. Or rather, whilst regaining her composure.

With a soft sigh and a self-conscious pull of her sleeves, the writer briefly glances to the smear of the blonde’s lipstick before simply stating: “I know, I guess old habits really do die hard.” She shrugs as if to say to not make a fuss of something without importance but both she and Jacqueline know that there are still wounds on their insides that have not yet begun to heal due to their relationship’s less than ideal start.

Understanding and compassion flick through the older woman’s eyes as she carefully appraises Jane’s sudden vulnerability. She steps forward and gently takes her younger lover’s hand into her own and guides them both to settle down on the velvety sofa positioned against the concrete wall opposite the cluttered desk. Jane cracks a fleeting smile at the irony of the blonde next to her managing to be such an organized and thoughtful leader yet being one of the messiest people that she knows. The editor’s true, chaotic self only comes to life once watchful eyes disappear though. Jane’s gaze lands on the half-closed lid of the laptop and her boss’s favourite mug staining the printed paper of some unlucky writer’s article next to it. She can’t help but to feel guilty for not instantly jumping out of her seat and removing the mug to rescue one of her colleagues’ hard work but the damage to the print has already been done.

She feels her hand being squeezed and she immediately shifts her gaze to the woman sitting next to her. Teeth sink into her bottom lip but quickly release it again at the sight of Jacqueline’s slightly raised eyebrow. The blonde gives her a crooked smirk before leaning over to graze her lips over her hair. Then her forehead. Both of her cheeks. Her nose. Then finally, her lips.

Letting go of the brunette’s pouty lips with a pop, the blonde allows a more serious expression to settle before apologetically saying: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only teasing.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I know that it’s difficult to adjust to this new reality. It is for me too sometimes. But then I look at you and it’s like the whole word fades away. Nothing and no one else matters.” It takes a second for her words to fully register in her head but once they do, she winces briefly. A wide grin revealing pearly whites spreads across Jane’s face and her nose twitches, only slightly but enough for Jacqueline to take notice of it. It is one of the blonde’s favourite looks on the younger woman and she feels an almost silly dab of pride rise up in her chest for managing to make the girl smile so wide.

“Well that was cheesy.” Jane chuckles. Contrary to her rejection of the words, she can feel butterflies, birds and almost surely any other creatures with wings and the ability to fly, spreading their wings like a rapid fire inside of her. From her toes all the way up to the very roots of her silky, long hair. Realizing that the older woman’s hands are still in her own, she squeezes them gently before meeting her lover’s soft gaze.

“Well this got too emotional really fast. I just wanted to appreciate the way your suit would look on the floor for a little while before we went home.” Jacqueline feels the shift in the air immediately, almost like a snowfall turning into a warm summer breeze in the span of just a few short seconds. Hazel meet blue before the former pointedly shifts her gaze up and down the blonde’s lean body, stopping for a second too long to be considered accidental on the hardly visible cleavage.

They begin to lean closer to each other but just as their lips are about to touch a phone chimes loudly signalling an incoming text. The blonde gently shakes her head, as if to clear her mind of the fog that always seems to rise when Jane looks at her in a certain way. Feeling the vibration of yet another text in her front pocket, she takes her phone out to check the messages.

**From James:**

_Are you guys almost home? We’re hungry_

_It’s pizza night so get home soon!_

Jacqueline sighs before offering Jane a gentle, apologetic smile. “It’s the boys, they want food.” She explains before briefly replying to the texts. Deeming further explanation unnecessary, the brunette simply stands, pulling the blonde with her.

“Well we can’t keep them waiting.” Jane winks at the other woman before determinedly marching out of the office. Feeling blood rush to her cheeks, Jacqueline playfully rolls her eyes at herself. The effect the younger woman has on her still manages to catch her off guard on occasion despite the months that they’ve been together. Once again, she briefly shakes her head before following Jane’s footsteps.

***

As the doors slide open, a gangly dark-haired boy barely glances up from the video game he is currently enthralled in to ensure that it is, in fact, his mother and her girlfriend arriving. “Took you long enough. Connor’s already eaten like half a bag of chips while we’ve been waiting.” He grumbles, not taking his eyes of the game for a second.

Before Jacqueline can question her oldest son’s intentions with letting his brother eat snacks before dinner, his virtual car crashes into a wall with a loud crash and he jumps out of his seat, winding his arm back as if to chuck his controller at the screen but seeming to change his mind as he instead only he swears loudly and aggressively throws himself back on the sofa. Raising her eyebrows at her son’s vulgar language but choosing to ignore it for the time being, she angles her body towards the petite brunette next to her.

“I’m going to get changed into something more comfortable and then go get Connor. I made the dough last night and put it in the fridge, would you mind taking it out and starting the marinara sauce?” The blonde runs her fingers through her impossibly impeccable short hair as she sighs, trying to will the long and busy day’s tension to ease from her shoulders. Upon receiving a gentle smile and an affirmative from her love, she walks over to her son who has yet to stop sulking on the sofa. He begrudgingly accepts a kiss on the forehead by the woman as she greets him properly before she swiftly moves away towards her bedroom.

Jane bends down to remove her stilettos from her throbbing feet before walking barefoot to the kitchen. Managing to somehow both grab a rather heavy saucepan from a cupboard and the large container of dough from the fridge without any mishaps, she glances over the counter only to be greeted by the sight of the teenaged boy still pouting on the couch. An involuntary smile graces her face as she chances a look at the screen which unfortunately no longer shows the boy’s score.

“How far did you get this time?” She suspects that he must have been close to reaching a new high score judging by the deadly glare she finds herself on the receiving end of at the sound of her question. The look doesn’t face her though as one might suspect it would, it’s simply much too similar to his mother’s glare to be considered scary for the brunette.

Remembering the countless nights when she used to never go to sleep only to repeatedly crash and burn on the small tv screen in front of her, she feels a pang of sympathy for him. She knows all too well just how infuriating it is to be so close only to watch your goal too often quite literally go up in flames. “Why don’t you help me out with the pizza sauce first before giving it another shot?”

James seems to consider his options before mumbling something under his breath as he straggles over to the kitchen. Grabbing a couple of cloves of garlic, he begins to silently chop them up as Jane supresses a smile as she begins to pour chopped tomatoes into the saucepan on the stove.

After having stood in silence for a few minutes, James pours the chopped up garlic into the saucepan before sagging his shoulders and stating in a tone not much higher than a whisper: “I was 50 points away.”

Jane gives him a confused look before understanding dawns on her. “Sometimes it helps to take a break for a bit before getting back into it. That’s what I always do.” She offers before turning around to grab some spices, she doesn’t miss the shine in the boy’s eyes nor his excited smile though.

“ _You_ play?” It’s as if his prior grief has completely vanished to instantly be replaced with complete admiration and enthusiasm. Jane tries not to question his emphasis on the word you, as if her being intimately familiar with the world of gaming is more unexpected then finding out that mermaids are real.

“Yeah, _The legend of Zelda_ was my first true love.” She admits as she grins at her lover’s oldest son. It is surprising to her that the topic of her younger self’s mild gaming obsession has not come up for discussion before this moment. She constantly has to remind herself that meanwhile her relationship with their mother has been ongoing for quite some time, her relationship with the woman’s sons has only just begun. There is still a lot left for her to learn about the boys and for them to learn about her.

“Good to know.” A familiar tone teases from behind them and Jane spins around on her heel, coming face to face with a smirking Jacqueline. The brunette only winks in response before silently appreciating her girlfriend’s new outfit consisting of a pair of dark-washed jeans matched with a plain white V-neck half hidden beneath a moss-green knitted cardigan. Jane is certain that the novelty of seeing Jacqueline dressed down and relaxed in her own home will never quite wear off.

At his mother’s return, James only grins in reply to Jane’s statement before heading back towards the sofa, grabbing the discarded controller from the floor on his way. It doesn’t take long before the sounds of screeching tires and non-copyrighted music fills the air once more as the young boy loses himself in the game yet again. Jane catches a glimpse of her love’s second son settling into the sofa next to his older brother before she turns her gaze back to the blonde next to her.

“The marinara is almost finished but we still need to chop up the pepperoni and grate the cheese.” Jane says as she leans into the older woman. The blonde’s eyes flutter close at the proximity, expecting soft lips to connect to her own but when she feels the warmth from the brunette’s body disappear her eyes slowly open again. She notices a wooden spoon in the younger woman’s hand before meeting Jane’s teasing gaze, the brunette clearly knowing exactly the effect she has on her boss.

Purposefully backing the brunette up against the countertop, she places one hand on each side of the young writer, effectively trapping her. She begins to lean towards Jane’s body, making sure that her breast press against the other woman’s. Hearing a sharp inhale close to her ear as pale hands grip the fabric of her cardigan so tightly that she feels nails dig into her back, the blonde smiles satisfied with her young lover’s reaction. _Two can play a teasing game_. As one of her hands settle on a pale hip, the other one reaches over and grabs a wooden chopping board. As soon as the object is firmly in her grip, she gently pinches Jane with the hand still resting on her hip before backing away from her entirely.

Hazel eyes flutter open only to stare accusingly at the older woman. “You’re so rude, did you know that?” Jane’s tone is accusatory but her eyes sparkle mischievously as she turns around to grab her phone who up until now has been laying neglected on the countertop behind her. Connecting her phone to the speakers installed on the wall in front of her, she presses play on _Worship_ by Lizzo. Upon hearing the familiar melody, a knowing smile spreads across Jacqueline’s face as Jane begins to move her hips in time with the beat.

Singing along to the lyrics in a rather loud fashion, the dancing brunette earns herself two simultaneous groans from the boys sitting on the sofa. Dismissing their sounds of disapproval, Jane maintains eye contact with the blonde as she stalks towards her. Once she is only a few centimetres away from the older woman’s lips, she seductively whispers “ _worship me_ ” before attacking the now nude lips with her own.

Tongues meet briefly before teeth sink into a lush bottom lip, releasing with a pop. Conscious of James and Connor’s presence, Jane leans impossibly closer to the blonde, moving her mouth to playfully nibble at a soft ear lobe before her hot breath washes over Jacqueline’s ear. She feels almost more then she hears a soft gasp falling from luscious lips as she whispers into the other woman’s ear: “There’ll be more of this later.”

As yet another song begins to fill the air, Jacqueline stares lustfully after the younger woman as she backs away, yet again beginning to sway her hips in time with the music. “And you’re calling me rude?” The blonde asks, her tone bordering on sounding irritated but her gaze warm and playful.

Finding herself shaking her head for the third time this evening due to the woman currently dancing in her kitchen, she glances over to the sofa at the sound of her sons’ raised voices only to see them uncharacteristically jumping up and down. Furrowing her brows, she is just about to ask what’s happened to initiate this behaviour when the dancing to her left stops very suddenly and a massive smile spreads across Jane’s face.

“Did you beat your score!?” Seeing the enthusiastic nod she receives from the taller out of the two boys, Jane immediately runs over to them to join their jumping up and down.

Warmth spreads inside of Jacqueline’s chest upon the sight before her and she feels her eyes getting misty. Sneakily grabbing Jane’s discarded phone from the countertop, the blonde snaps a photo of her three favourite people, all of which are in the middle of various levels of ecstasy. She takes a deep breath and wills the tears filling up her eyes not to fall as she smiles brightly at them. Jane catches her eye and enthusiastically waves her over. She begins to make her way over to them, but the fair-skinned brunette meets her halfway, still slightly swaying in time with the music.

Jacqueline glances appreciatively at the enticing movements of skirt-clad hips before walking around the dancing woman to reach her sons. One of her hands meet with her eldest’s raised hand with an echoing clap that leaves both of their palms stinging. Wincing briefly at the prickly pain spreading across her palm, she still smiles proudly at her son. The older woman might not have much knowledge of video games but her maternal instincts allow for a deep sense of motherly pride to spread within her regardless.

“Well done Jamie, I’m proud of you.” As the words leave her mouth, a tinge of pink spreads across the tall boy’s cheeks as he quietly thanks his mother. Opting against her impulse to ruffle his hair, something Jacqueline knows he would hate as he spends half an hour in the bathroom each morning trying to perfect it, she only squeezes his shoulder before allowing him to return to his celebrating. Spinning around on her heels, she pads over to where Jane is standing a metre away.

The petite brunette’s eyes are closed as she sways to the music. A burst of warmth spreads in the blonde at the sight before her, warming up every cold and dark corner of her body. Freckled hands settle on pale hips as the younger woman’s eyes flutter open to reveal the most beautiful eyes Jacqueline has ever seen. Gazing into those eyes is as if experiencing a sunny autumn-day, feeling the leaves rustling beneath your feet, the sun mildly warming up your face and the vague smell of rain lingering in the air.

Feeling the warmth from Jane’s hips radiating through the thin fabric of her skirt, the taller woman gets the sudden urge to feel pale skin against her own. Sneaking her hands underneath the blouse, Jacqueline gently rubs the pads of her thumbs against soft skin. Their eyes never leave each other’s as the blonde leans impossibly closer, their stare only stopping as both of their eyes flutter shut as she gives the brunette a chaste peck on the lips.

Humming contentedly against luscious lips, Jacqueline moves her head back ever so slightly. Their gazes lock once again as the blonde whispers “ _I love you_ ”, her lips barely brushing against the brunette’s as the words are uttered.

Before Jane has a chance to respond the doorbell rings, causing everyone to freeze. The blonde can feel three heads curiously turn to stare at her, but Jacqueline only shrugs her shoulders in response as if to say _“I’ve no idea who it could be”_. Her feet move towards the door before her brain has time to catch up, leaving her body standing in the living-room wondering who could possibly be knocking on her door at twenty to nine on a school night. 

Upon turning the handle and swinging the dark metallic door open, she’s greeted by a most unexpected sight. The shock the blonde feels upon seeing the tall, grey-haired man she once called her husband standing at her doorstep is shortly replaced with an immense sense of dread upon finally registering the bouquet of pink roses he has clasped in his hands.

She is certain that they can’t have been standing there for more then a few seconds, but it feels like hours pass by as they stare at each other, each waiting for the other one to make a move. Finally, seemingly shaking herself out of her reverie, Jacqueline smiles graciously. It’s a smile that she has perfected over many years, a smile that seems genuine enough to the untrained eye but is blatantly fake to the man she was married to for the past twenty years.

“Ian, hello.” Her surprise is evident in her tone. She hopes it manages to conceal the dread she feels.

She vaguely registers the music being turned off before she feels a presence behind her. Ian seems to have noticed the crowd gathering behind her too as he smiles widely at his sons before his eyes land on the petite brunette. Quirking an eyebrow, he stares at her bemusedly.

Shrinking under his penetrating stare, Jane almost takes a step back before catching herself. Straightening her spine, she purposefully meets his stare. Breaking the stare, Ian clears his throat before returning his gaze to his sons. Allowing the smile to return to his face, he steps into the apartment. Closing the door behind him, he takes an additional step forward which causes Jacqueline to take a small step back.

“Jamie. Connor. Nice to see you boys, it’s been two whole days too long without you both.” He smiles gently and nods in the direction of the boys, upon receiving hesitant smiles from them both he yet again turns his gaze to Jane. “Jane.” He acknowledges, disdain dripping from his voice poorly concealed with a false politeness.

Feeling a fierce protectiveness erupt inside of her at the tone, Jacqueline steps closer to the brunette as she clears her throat pointedly. Her facial expression would have made a lesser man cry, but Ian only meets her gaze. Something achingly similar to surprise flashes before his eyes before he schools his features.

“Jacqueline… It’s been a while.”

Both James and Connor quickly lose interest in their father’s arrival and quietly make their return to the sofa. Soon, the sounds of crashing vehicles and fingers pressing harshly on plastic controllers fill the air once more.

The noise the boys are making only a few metres away sound as if they are in a completely different world to Jane who is still rooted to her spot, transfixed by the small but elegant bouquet of roses still grasped in barely wrinkled hands.

_1… 2…3…4…5…6._ Six roses. Six, pale pink roses tied with a neat white, silk ribbon. She feels as if she’s suffocating on her own breath. She is certain, with every fibre of her being, of what will happen next. Ian will make a swooping love declaration and Jacqueline will welcome him back into her life, completely dismissing Jane in the process.

As if on cue, Ian opens his mouth yet again.

“I’ve missed you Jackie.” The sincere words and the regretful look in his eyes almost make Jane feel bad for him. _Almost_.

As if sensing the brunette’s wavering compassion, he continues without missing a beat.

“I haven’t… I haven’t just simply missed you. I’ve dreaded every second that we have been apart.”

It feels as if someone has poured concrete down her throat and then thrown her into freezing water. She’s sinking and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it.

The previous background noise, or rather the lack thereof, registers in Jane’s ears as she finally manages to take a breath. Glancing over her shoulder, she notices the two teenagers sitting quietly. Neither of them even attempt to hide their eavesdropping, both having their ears pointed towards the three adults still standing by the doorway.

As if sensing eyes on her, Jacqueline glances over to the sofa as well. She gestures towards the hallway as if silently asking the grey-haired man to follow her. She catches Jane’s eye just as the brunette is about to head in their direction, silently shaking her head at her. The hurt and confusion that flash by in hazel eyes are like a bullet straight into her heart. She opens her mouth, but words won’t come.

Hearing a door opening down the hall, the blonde offers her love a tight-lipped smile before turning around and determinedly walking towards the sound. She can only hope that the reassurance she tried to convey in her eyes was noticed by the younger woman.

As Jane makes her way over to the boys on the sofa, Jacqueline opens the wooden door to her bedroom.

Seeing Ian casually leaning against the dresser at the opposite side of the bed, the blonde silently steps towards the edge of the wide bed. Lowering herself down onto the pale white comforter, she sighs resignedly before pointedly lifting her gaze up to meet her ex-husband’s.

“I meant what I said out there you know. The past months without you have been hell.”

Grabbing the roses that he had previously left unattended on the dresser, he edges closer to the blonde enigma he once was fortunate enough to call his wife.

“These are for you.” He unnecessarily explains, his British accent getting thicker the more nervous he becomes. It is difficult not to notice such things after having lived with them, and even having been rather fond of certain quirks, for a bit over two decades.

She accepts the flowers, stating her thanks as he hands them to her.

A few minutes pass by in silence, both simply staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Determining that _no, she has in fact sadly not suddenly developed telepathic abilities_ , Jacqueline sighs heavily as she rubs her cheek. Allowing a couple more seconds to slide, she finally opens her mouth.

“What do you want Ian?” Her tone is not unkind but combined with her unwavering stare and the graveness in her eyes, it clearly states that her patience is running thin. The message is evident, there is no room for anything but the truth in reply.

“I want you, Jacqueline. I want you back.”

Despite having expected the words, they still suck the air out of her lungs. Hearing her sharp inhale, Ian takes it as a sign to continue.

“I _love_ you, Jackie. It’s always been you for me, you’re it. I don’t want anyone else.” Carefully taking a step closer to the astonished blonde, he continues.

“I know that we had our issues…” One of said issues currently trying to keep herself from pacing back and forth on the other side of the wall. “And that’s why we got divorced, but darling, I’m willing to put all of that behind us and just move forward. I want to be with you and only you. I’m willing to put in the work to make this, _us_ , work.”

Feeling rather overwhelmed by his speech, Jacqueline does not immediately register how close he now is. Taking his final step towards her, now slightly towering over the still sitting blonde he brings a warm hand up to cradle her cool cheek.

Before she has time to react, he leans forward and places his dry lips against her own. Sinking into the familiar feeling, she allows herself to be guided onto her back. The discarded roses graze soft skin where her shirt has ridden up as a robust hand places itself on her hip while the other one lands a bare centimeter from her face.

At the feeling of nails lightly scraping against her back, slowly sliding up towards her bra clasp, a face with hurt hazel eyes framed by brunette locks appear in front of blue eyes. Panic rising in her throat, she lands a steadying hand on his arm. Just as she’s about to pull her lips away, the door creaks open.

The atmosphere in the room changes in an instant. Ian clumsily regains his footing as Jacqueline’s eyes land on the cause of the interruption. Time seems to slow to a halt as blue meets hazel. _Jane_.

Taking in the sight before her, Jane barely registers a sharp, nauseating pain in her abdomen. It feels as if a dull knife has slowly edged its way in between her guts, its rusty edges settling right below her ribs. It is not an instant sensation, instead it takes a few seconds for the pain to erupt. It’s almost as if she’s watching the scene before her in slow-motion, as if witnessing a car crash but being unable to stop it nor look the other way as the two vehicles collide in full speed.

She had only walked into the room to calm her nerves, to make sure that it really was only her anxiety firing off one alarm bell after another in her head. To ensure that nothing _bad_ was happening. Nothing that would cause her to feel like a petal plucked from one of Ian’s stupid roses. Being carelessly thrown to the ground only to lay there, forgotten, until someone eventually either steps on her until she’s slowly pulled to insignificant shreds, or until someone notices her only to put her in a rubbish bin.

Upon walking into the bedroom, Jacqueline’s bedroom, _their_ bedroom, she feels none of the reassurance that she had been hoping to find though. Instead, she feels as if her body is falling into an eternal black hole as Ian and Jacqueline watch on with sadistic smiles playing on their lips.

Vaguely sensing their eyes on her, Jane suddenly feels trapped. Tears fill her eyes as her breathing becomes laboured. Through her misty gaze she notices movement by the bed as Jacqueline cautiously begin to approach her. Jane thinks she hears her soft voice saying her name but she can’t be sure.

Just as a hand hesitantly lands on her shoulder, burning a hole through her skin in the process, the fire alarm goes off in the kitchen. The industrial alarm beeps loudly as the boys’ shout something that sounds suspiciously much like the words “burning dinner” which causes all three of them to instantly head to the kitchen. As soon as their feet touch the ground outside of the bedroom, their eyes begin to sting due to the smoke quickly filling up the penthouse.

The two ex-spouses take the lead, quickly noticing the cause of the smoke and striding towards the abandoned marinara sauce left to burn on the stove. Ian orders the frightened boys sitting frozen on the couch to open up the windows as the tall blonde beside him soaks a tea towel in water before throwing it onto the saucepan, effectively suffocating the small but mighty fire.

Jane, who had followed them back out into the open space on autopilot, only stands there. Staring at them. Taking in their effortless movements around each other. It almost seems as if they were meant for this, meant to kill kitchen fires accidentally started by unimportant short brunettes, together. Meant to be together, through thick and thin. 

Silently confirming the extinguishing of the fire to herself, Jane spins around, grabs her abandoned stilettos from the floor and then heads to the door. Leaving the family behind her to be just that, a _family_. She feels so stupid. _How could she ever have thought that her and Jacqueline would last?_

Once the smoke has mostly simmered out through the open windows, the completely black marinara sauce has been dumped into the bin and the adrenaline has started to wear off, Jacqueline turns around, expecting to find Jane, _her_ _sweet, lovely Jane_ , standing there, waiting for her.

Instead, she is met with nothing. With no one.

Padding over to where she last saw the petite woman, she is met with the lingering smell of the young writer’s signature lavender perfume. The younger woman would die of embarrassment if anyone ever found out, but the cheap plastic bottle of perfume she first got at a dollarstore when she was sixteen has not yet been replaced with a more expensive, more luxurious glass bottle.

Jacqueline fondly recalls the brunette’s horrified expression from months ago, when she had walked out of the bathroom only to see the blonde reading the label of her perfume. She had truly given a human poster-face for the expression of deer-in-the-headlights. The towel-clad woman had stumbled over her words for minutes, attempting to explain why the bottle had been in her possession before ultimately deeming it a lost cause and confessing the truth to the, at that point full-on, laughing older woman.

A fond smile tugs at her lips at the memory before suddenly turning back into a frown. The brunette is nowhere to be seen. The faint scent of her is the only indication left that she once stood there. The air feels freezing cold against the blonde’s skin. She fills her lungs with the smell of lavender.

Casting a fleeting glance over her shoulder at her sons, she hurriedly exits the apartment to hopefully find her devastated brown-haired lover. The sound of her sons’ laughter at their father’s animated story fill her ears as she quietly closes the door behind her. An unnerving feeling settle in her stomach as she spins around only to see the petite woman about to enter the lift.

***

As soon as she hears the thud of the door closing behind her, leaving behind the family, the family that Jane had naively believed herself to have become a part of during the past couple of months (-Ian of course), tears, that she had up until now miraculously managed to keep at bay, begin to roll down her face in big, fat droplets. Her lungs constrict as her breathing becomes laboured and her vision becomes blurry.

Clutching her stomach, with a grip so tight Jane’s certain that she will wake up with bruises tomorrow, she somehow manages to slowly drag her feet to the metallic lift on the opposite side of the hall. It takes all her energy to lift one single finger to press the down-button. Her gaze latches on to the soft glow of the button as she tries to focus on the churning sound signalling the elevator’s journey to her.

Her tongue tastes of salt as the tears continue to cascade down her face, showing no signs of stopping as she struggles with filling her lungs with a sufficient amount of oxygen.

Suddenly the doors in front of her slide open but just as she is about to drag herself into the small metal box, a hand grabs her wrist, gently pulling her back. Jane does not need to look to know who it is, after all there has only ever been one person who is able to make her skin feel like it is on fire by something as simple as a small touch.

Her body stiffens at the unexpected touch but she doesn’t relax as she registers the familiarity of the perfectly manicured hand on her wrist or the faint scent of the blonde’s vanilla bodywash.

Blood is rushing to her ears and her vision is still blurry, despite the tears significantly having slowed down at the mere proximity of the older woman. Her name is being uttered from those beautiful lips that she had kissed only twenty minutes ago and that she is now certain she won’t ever get to taste again, but she can not bring herself to turn around. To face her. _Jacqueline_. If she gazes into those apologetic, sad deep blue eyes, Jane is sure that she will not make it out of the building in one piece.

“Jane… Please.” Something surely breaks within Jane at hearing her desperate, distraught tone. Her ribs are cracked open, leaving a straight trail to her pumping heart, it patiently waiting to be ripped apart at the hands of the blonde for the second time this evening.

Forcing air into her lungs, she briefly allows her eyes to flutter shut before slowly, carefully, opening them again as she turns to face the other woman. Upon meeting blue eyes with her own, a wave of pain hits her.

Realizing that the short-haired woman’s hand is still resting on her wrist, she harshly pulls away from her touch. A small part of Jane almost feels satisfied at the hurt flashing through Jacqueline’s eyes at the move.

Quirking an eyebrow, she silently waits for the blonde to speak. Ducking her gaze under the intense scrutiny of her gaze, her eyes land on the woman’s slipper-covered feet. Her face is red and blotchy, her cheeks are puffy and drying tear tracks trail down them from her red-shot eyes. It is far from her best look yet, it is not the thought of the other woman seeing her like this that forces Jane to glance away, rather it is the thought of her being responsible for it and Jane helplessly wanting to be engulfed in those strong arms and comforted by her, when the pain she’s feeling now has been caused by the woman herself, that causes her to look away.

When the silence drags on for an additional minute, Jane steels herself before slowly lifting her gaze back up to meet Jacqueline’s. Their gazes battle for what could only be a few seconds but feels like an eternity. Jane allows for all her disappointment, hurt and anger to reflect in her eyes which elicits a barely noticeable hitch in the other woman’s breath.

No words come out of the older woman’s mouth as another minute of the two of them staring into each other’s eyes pass by. Jane’s gaze bordering on defiant as she impatiently taps her foot while Jacqueline’s is searching, as if she only continues to gaze into Jane’s eyes, she might just find the answer she is looking for.

Finally having had enough of waiting for the blonde to speak, to defend herself, to apologize, to say _anything_ , Jane breaks their stare-off and without offering an explanation or a goodbye, she turns around and determinedly strides to the door leading to the stairwell. Swinging the heavy door open, she holds onto the cold metal handle for a beat too long before inhaling deeply and then stepping into the dark stairwell.

She convinces herself that the softly spoken “Jane” that she hears as the door closes behind her is only a figment of her imagination.

On the other side of the door stands Jacqueline, frozen on the spot, helplessly staring after the brunette long after the echoes of her footsteps die out.

***

A simple text lights up the screen of two phones on the opposite sides of New York. All it says is “ _I need you guys_ ”. It takes them both less than an hour to hail a taxi and arrive outside of the rundown building.

Both vehicles screech to a halt as the women, unknowing of the exact amount, throw cash at the general direction of their respective drivers before jumping out and sprinting up the concrete steps. Not bothering to knock as they had both felt the unexpected desperation of the plain text, the taller of the two opens the wooden door and leads them into the apartment that the strawberry-blonde once used to call home.

It takes a second for their eyes to adjust to the darkness but once they do, they both instantly notice the silently shaking ball of blankets on the sofa. Throwing themselves onto the couch, Sutton gently removes the blanket covering the crying woman’s head as Kat reaches over to the side table and presses the button to the lamp standing there. As the dim glow lights up the room, tearstains covering blotchy cheeks and redshot eyes become clearer to see for the two newly arrived women.

Sighing worriedly, the curly-haired one gently begins to drag her hand up and down the leg only half-covered by a blanket in a soothing manner as Sutton takes a hold of the sobbing brunette’s hand, calmly brushing her thumb back and forth over the soft skin.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowly begins to return to normal as her tears steadily dry out. Jane offers her friends a shaky, unconvincing smile as she squeezes the hand still holding hers and reaches over to do the same to the darker hand still drawing patterns on her leg.

Noticing their rather unexpected attire for the first time, Jane lets out a watery chuckle.

“I appreciate you guys coming so quickly, I really do, but what’s with the PJ’s?” At her words, both of them glance down and simultaneously begin to laugh at their unusual outfits.

Sutton self-consciously pulls on the sleeves of her matching set of white pyjamas decorated with small rabbits jumping haphazardly across the fabric as Kat does a shimmying motion while asking, “what’s wrong with PJ’s?” as she smooths out an invisible wrinkle in her oversized t-shirt.

The still blanket-covered brunette only shakes her head with a disbelieving smile on her face. A memory of her and a certain blonde play-wrestling in bed, teasingly fighting about which one of them should be allowed to wear the editor’s Prince-shirt from his _Purple Rain Tour_ (Jane still hasn’t fully grasped the fact that a young Jacqueline had actually attended one of the artist’s shows in Houston which is how she got said t-shirt), flashes before hazel eyes and the smile that had been playing on full lips is immediately replaced with a frown.

Noticing the change on their friend’s face, Kat and Sutton exchange a concerned look behind her head.

As Sutton gets ready to speak, the phone laying with its screen down on the coffee-table beside them loudly vibrates two times in a row. A second passes before _Push it_ by Salt-N-Pepa begins to filter out from the speakers as the phone vibrates angrily.

When Jane doesn’t immediately reach to answer the call which both of the others are certain is from Jacqueline, as they have teased the brunette for her _not-so_ romantic choice of ringtone countless times since they found out about their boss’s relationship with their best friend months ago, they gaze worriedly at each other, unsure of what to do as it becomes more and more apparent to them that their emotional friend has no intention, at all, what-so-ever, to pick up the phone.

As the call finally goes to voicemail, the friends’ turn their gazes to Jane, staring expectantly at her, waiting for an explanation.

“I don’t want to talk to her.” Her voice is strained, almost as if she is trying to reign back her anger but her lower lip wobbles on the last word as a lonesome tear rolls down her cheek, revealing her true emotions.

Two sets of hands wrap around her from opposite sides as a suppressed sob escapes the confinements of her lips and they stay there, holding her tightly, until several minutes later when she finally manages to draw a shuddering breath as her sobs calm down.

“Tiny Jane, what’s wrong? Talk to us.” Kat asks the now slightly calmer woman. The sound of her nickname pulls her lips up marginally, but enough for the other two to notice and internally sigh of relief.

Jane inhales deeply before leaning forward to grab her discarded phone to hand it to the questioning woman.

As the screen lights up in Kat’s hand, dozens of texts and missed calls appear, all of which have been sent or dialled by the same person, Jacqueline. Quickly scanning through the messages, the dark-haired woman concludes that they are all sent with the same purpose, to apologize for something. What it is, she doesn’t know.

“Okay so… clearly something has happened between you and Jacqueline if all of these apology-messages, not to mention all of the missed calls, you’ve gotten within the last 2 hours are any indication.” Kat feels the body next to hers tense upon hearing a certain blonde editor’s name. “The texts don’t say what she is sorry for though so we’re kinda gonna need you to fill in the blanks please.” She unnecessarily points between her and Sutton as she speaks, clarifying which “we’re” she’s talking about.

Sutton squeezes the small woman’s shoulder gently, silently encouraging her as Kat reaches out to hold a pale hand.

Breathing in and out deeply through her mouth, Jane closes her eyes, not daring to look at her friends to see their reactions at what she is about to say.

“She cheated on me.” Her voice sounds foreign in her ears and the words leave a bitter taste on her tongue.

Surprised gasps escape the others mouths before they can contain them and if Jane were to have had her eyes open, she would have seen Sutton’s mouth opening and closing repeatedly in a comical fashion as Kat’s eyebrows almost reach her hairline at the statement.

The other two exchange a confused look, the words not fully connecting with their own image of the professional, moral and intelligent older woman. The darker one out of the two simply shrug lightly as if to say “ _stranger things have happened_ ”.

“Okay, tell us what happened.”

As Jane opens her mouth to attempt to explain the evening’s events, despite herself not having fully wrapped her head around any of it yet, the doorbell rings. Its shrill sound echoes throughout the apartment. The unexpected interruption causes all of them to freeze but as an insistent knocking soon follows the ringing, Kat and Sutton seem to snap out of it as both their bodies visibly shake, almost as if shaking the surprise out of their systems.

The one closest to the door slowly rises from her seat and heads towards it before the still frozen brunette next to her can stop her. The warning Jane is just about to utter dies on her tongue as she hears the door swing open which is instantly followed by a surprised, albeit slightly nervous, (and just a tad too loud to be considered normal) exclamation from Kat:

“Jacqueline! Hello.”

Ever so gracious, despite her clearly frazzled state, the woman at the door smiles politely at her employee as she greets her with an even tone before her expression turns more serious. If Kat didn’t know better, she’d say that the blonde almost looks desperate.

“Is Jane here?” Her voice cracks when she utters her love’s name, but her face remains stoic. Her deep blue eyes swirl with emotion though, betraying her apparent indifference.

Conscious of newly found out information, the dark-eyed woman is suddenly filled with a fierce protectiveness over her fragile friend sitting on the couch behind her, currently enveloped in Sutton’s thin arms.

Aware of the question having been asked more so out of politeness rather than necessity, as Kat is certain the woman in front of her already knows the answer to her inquiry, she simply crosses her arms over her chest and states:

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Jacqueline visibly flinches at the words. Though the statement is not unexpected, it still stings to hear that her love, her other half, her _freaking_ soulmate, does not want to exist within ten feet of her. She knows that it’s her own doing but god damn it, it hurts.

Kat watches the fight leave the older woman, like a balloon rapidly deflating, the editor’s posture visibly sags as she, reminiscent of a child caught with their hand in the cookie-jar, turns her gaze to her feet, faux-fascinated with the speck of dirt on her otherwise pristine shoelaces. The move seems very uncharacteristic for the usually rather blunt and shameless woman.

In any other situation, the sight of her 53-year old boss scuffing her foot against the ground like a petulant child would have made Kat laugh. The humour flies right over her head this time though, instead she can only feel concern, mixed with a hint of anger as she is yet to forget Jane’s words from earlier, for the woman standing in front of her.

“I take it she’s told you then.” At the faint nod she receives from the other woman, the corners of her mouth pull up into a self-deprecating smile. “Good, I’m glad she has you and Sutton to talk to.”

Not bothering to wait for a response, the editor turns and begins to walk down the steps. As she reaches the last step, she looks over her shoulder and clears her throat before saying:

“Please tell her I’m sorry. I know that is nowhere near enough and if I could go back in time and undo my actions, I would. But I can’t so, the least I can do is apologize. So please Kat, tell her how sorry I am.”

Hearing her boss’s voice thick with so much pain and regret makes Kat’s stomach churn afflictively. She manages a curt nod in response to Jacqueline’s request, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from doing something that she’d most definitely regret later.

Closing the door, Kat spins around only to walk straight into someone. Letting out a gust of air, she stumbles backwards, barely maintaining her balance in the process, and as she looks up questioningly, she notices a misty-eyed Jane.

The short brunette’s gaze is glued to the door, seemingly completely oblivious of the person in front of her.

Realizing that she does not need to convey a certain blonde’s message, as the recipient of it most definitely just heard it being said only seconds ago, Kat tenderly grabs a hold of Jane’s shoulders and redirects her back to the sofa where Sutton is patiently waiting for their return.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. It’s entirely up to you.” Kat states as she gingerly lets go of her loose grip on pale shoulders.

Sutton nods in response. “We’ll do whatever you want. And if you want to talk, we will listen and if you don’t, we will do something else.”

They both stare expectantly at Jane, eager to be of service. The brunette nods slowly as her empty eyes look around the room, attempting to digest all of the night’s events, her gaze eventually landing on the flat screen in front of them.

Smiling unconvincingly at her friends, she wordlessly grabs the remote and begins to flick through different channels, her eyes lighting up as a familiar melody starts to float through the speakers. Meryl Streep’s dungaree-clad body comes into view as she sings one of _ABBA_ ’s greatest hits, her face filled with anguish as she relays the words of the song.

Gazing over at her friends to gauge their reactions, she receives approving smiles in response.

“Anyone want some tea? Hot chocolate? Alcohol?” Sutton asks, emphasizing the last word with a slight upper-body shimmy which causes a genuine smile to break out on Jane’s face.

“I’ll have some tea, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, me too, thanks. OH and snacks! We’ve got to have snacks.” Kat adds, earning teasing eyerolls from both of her friends.

“What? Snacks are important.” She responds indignantly, grumpily crossing her arms over her chest.

Jane and Sutton both try their best to keep a straight face, nodding as if it is a matter of national security and not, in fact, about their friend’s need to always have some form of food present at all times. Their serious expressions don’t even last ten seconds as Kat cracks a smile at their ridiculousness which causes all of three of them to burst into laughter.

Clutching her stomach as tears roll down her face, this time fortunately due to joy, Jane silently vows to herself to simply enjoy the night in with her best friends, forcing memories of blonde bombshells and big-nosed brits out of her mind for the time being.

***

Entering _Scarlet_ ’s office the next morning, arm in arm with Kat and Sutton, is the hardest thing Jane has ever had to do. It barely takes the lead on getting out of bed this morning, hungover and heartbroken. The brunette deeply regrets her decision to change her tea to tequila halfway into _Mamma Mia_.

Drinking that heavily is never a good idea but drinking like that on an empty stomach is an even worse idea. The snacks that Sutton had found in the kitchen were proven to not be very helpful in preventing her liver from absorbing quite literally all of the alcohol.

The strawberry blonde spots Oliver standing by a rack of designer clothes. Angling her body towards the brunette next to her, she offers her a comforting smile and a few encouraging words before affectionately squeezing the arm that she is still holding before letting it go and walking over to her boss.

As Sutton leaves, Kat seems to realize that she too needs to go as her eyes are glued to her phone, evidently enraptured with whatever is being displayed on the screen. Jane reluctantly lets go of the taller woman’s arm as Kat apologetically explains the reason behind her departure. The short brunette vaguely registers the words “meeting” and “Patrick” but can not be bothered to listen with more then half an ear, her mind occupied elsewhere.

Another comforting smile and a gentle squeeze on her shoulder is offered to Jane before the woman next to her disappears in a blurry burst of colours, leaving her to enter the bullpen on her own.

Dark sunglasses cover bloodshot eyes as well as the dark circles beneath them as she slowly begins to navigate the brightly lit office. The floor-to-ceiling windows combined with the knowledge of a certain editor(/heartbreaker) existing somewhere on the same floor as her at this very moment, does not help her already throbbing head or her churning stomach.

Knowing that at any second, Jacqueline could walk around the corner, surely wearing something drop-dead gorgeous with her hair slicked back and her makeup done flawlessly, is almost enough to make Jane regret her earlier determination to go to work as per usual today, rather than lying in bed with a tub of ice cream crying her heart out as she’d normally do when suffering a broken heart.

The mere thought of seeing the blonde again after the previous night is enough to make Jane spin around on her heel, determined to make a run for it. Momentarily forgetting her hangover from hell, she has to stop mid-spin to bend over to vomit into a nearby bin.

A warm hand unexpectedly lands on her back as another gathers her hair up in a loose ponytail. Seemingly finished heaving up the small amount of food that she had forced herself to eat this morning, Jane slowly lifts her head up only to see roughly 40 sets of eyes all staring at her.

Feeling her cheeks heating up, she ducks her gaze only to see Louboutin-covered feet standing right next to her. Suddenly, as if all of Jane’s senses were lost and are now returning to her body all at once, her skin burns where the hand is still lingering on her back as the scent of her boss’s signature perfume infiltrates her nostrils.

Flying up out of her kneeling position a bit too quickly, the brunette has to grab a hold of the desk behind her as another wave of nausea as well as an intense dizziness overwhelms her. Whether her reaction is due to her hangover or the tall blonde still standing much too close to her, Jane doesn’t know.

The blonde’s hand is not burning through her skin anymore, instead her deep blue eyes, the same eyes she has spent countless nights helplessly gazing into, are staring at her intensely. Hazel meet blue and Jane suddenly feels nauseous again at the pain, regret and concern she sees swirling around in those expressive eyes.

An unspoken question is asked by the blonde through their gaze.

_Are you okay?_

Jane nods curtly without breaking eye contact, refusing to allow the taller woman to see how lost she is without her.

The sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat from behind Jacqueline interrupts their staring as the blonde raises a questioning eyebrow before turning around, only to come face to face with her ex-husband.

Also noticing who disturbed them, Jane feels her blood turn to ice. Upon noticing the bouquet of pale, pink roses, identical to the ones he had arrived with the previous evening, clutched in large, wrinkled hands, she has to actively hold back her tears.

The tall man smiles apologetically towards the editor-in-chief before clearing his throat yet again, preparing to speak.

“Jacqueline… I want to apologize for the way things went last night but I also want to say, I meant every word that I said. I love you, Jackie. Divorcing you is the biggest regret of my life. I should never have let you go, I know that now, but I’d like another chance.”

Feeling all eyes on her for the second time this morning, Jane feels the sudden need to scream. She barely manages to resist the urge.

Not willing to idly stand by to listen to yet another profession of love from the British man, she spins around and marches out of the bullpen. Once the elevator doors glide close in front of her, she slides to the ground with her back against the wall, finally allowing her suppressed sobs to wreak havoc, consuming her entirely.

If she had stayed only 30 seconds longer, she would have seen Jacqueline fiercely deny Ian’s request, ensuring her point has come across by snatching the bouquet from him only to throw it into the bin still reeking from Jane’s vomit before looking around, passionate eyes trying to find the holder of her heart only to discover her no longer there.

***

Ignoring her chiming phone for the sixth time in the past ten minutes, Jane clutches the newly purchased bottle of scotch tighter to her chest. She internally rolls her eyes, _she doesn’t even like scotch_.

Unscrewing the lid, she takes a swig of the amber liquid. Wincing at the burn in her throat, her eyes fill up with tears at the mere strength of the drink.

Her headache from this morning is but a memory now, having been replaced with a pleasant buzz courtesy of having poured a significant amount of alcoholic beverages down her throat already. Apparently not quite enough to dull the bitter taste of whiskey though.

The phone chimes again, two times in a row. Angrily throwing the bottle on the cushion next to her, she begins to lean forward to turn off the sound only to freeze with her arm stretched out at the sound of keys jingling outside of her front door. She casts a startled look towards the hall, intensely listening to the lock being turned and the handle being pulled down as the door quietly swings open.

Sutton had called her earlier, which had been the only time Jane had picked up her phone since this morning, to inform her that a fashion emergency would take up the majority of her day and highly likely her night as well, leaving her to come home very late. The logical part of Jane’s brain, albeit significantly dulled by all of the alcohol she has consumed, is telling her that it’s just Kat, having been sent by Sutton to check up on her, but her stomach is twisting uncomfortably and her arm is still frozen, hovering in the air as she holds her breath, waiting for whoever it is to make themselves known.

Something in the back of her head tells her that she is not in any danger as the person entering her home evidently has keys, which strongly suggests it being either one of her best friends, but her brain and her body seem to be in disagreement with each other.

Jane’s breath catches in her throat and her eyes nearly pop out of her skull at the sight of a certain blonde editor entering her living-space, dressed in an impeccable ensemble of wide, deep red slacks with a see-through black shirt tucked into the trousers halfway, the latter of which almost makes her drool despite her current emotional turmoil having been caused by the woman wearing the clothes.

Having been caught off guard at the entrance of the older woman, it takes Jane a minute to fully comprehend the blonde actually standing in her apartment, rather than just being a figment of her imagination. It takes an additional minute for her to notice the rather large bouquet of bloodred carnations held in the blonde’s arms, the sight of them leaving her breathless yet again.

Finally coming to her senses, Jane ungracefully shoots out of her seat, wobbling slightly at the sudden drop in her blood pressure before regaining her balance by grabbing a hold of the coffee table in front of her. Jaqueline eyes her worriedly but does not attempt to stretch out a helping hand.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she forces herself to take a deep breath before letting it go with a weak pop.

“Jacqueline, what are you doing here?” She barely keeps her voice from trembling, but her tone still manages to sound sharp. The simple enquiry is nowhere near all the questions she really wants to ask the blonde, but it will have to do for now.

Swallowing hard, Jane slowly comes to the realization that it is not her intoxicated blood that is making her an inept mess but rather the proximity of the older woman, with her slicked back hair and her piercing eyes, holding a massive bouquet which’s existence can have no other intention than to at some point be offered to her.

Hazel eyes land on the flowers, the deep red petals a stark contrast to the pale pink ones the blonde has been offered twice in two days. Memories from the previous night flash before her eyes, Ian coming knocking on the door, carrying half a dozen roses. Ian confessing his undying love for Jacqueline. The two of them heading to the blonde’s bedroom, the bedroom that she and Jane had spent countless nights together in. Jane walking in on them, the image of their lips sealed together as Ian’s body pressed against Jacqueline’s forever burned into her mind. Memories of this morning resurface soon after, like a film only playing the story’s climax over and over again. The same pink petals from the previous night etches themselves into Jane’s brain.

The brunette visibly shudders as she feels bile rise in her throat and her eyes become shiny with unshed tears. She angrily wipes her cheeks, ensuring no stray tears have fallen.

An answer, a defence, an apology, nothing has been uttered from nude lips. Tears slowly dissipate as Jane feels anger settle in her stomach, making her blood boil and her lips tremble with untamed rage.

_How dare she show up here with flowers and then not say anything?_

Turning to grab the discarded bottle from the couch, she unscrews the lid and takes a long swig, barely wincing this time. She feels blue eyes staring at her so she lifts her gaze, meeting that piercing stare. Jaqueline visibly gasps at the myriad of emotions, most evident being rage and hurt, that she sees in hazel eyes.

Wordlessly showing Jane the keys in her hand, the blonde gently drops them into the ceramic bowl on the wooden side-table.

“Sutton told me that she was going to come home late tonight and gave me her keys. She also told me you were going to be alone.” It feels like hours since Jane asked her question, but it can only have been minutes.

Frowning at the answer, and silently reminding herself to murder the stylist later, Jane’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“So what, Sutton told you to come here? Because you know, I would’ve expected you to be busy, no doubt out celebrating the newly returned life in your supposedly dead marriage.” She doesn’t bother trying to hide the bitterness in her voice or the coldness in her eyes.

“No, Sutton did not tell me to come here. I asked her where you were, and she told me. And then she gave me her keys because she didn’t think you would let me in if I came knocking on the door.” The brunette takes notice of the lack of reply to her comment regarding the woman’s marriage but is momentarily distracted by the confession that the blonde had been looking for her, the statement causing her heart to skip a beat.

Flopping down onto the sofa, Jane sighs heavily before reluctantly patting the cushion next to her while simultaneously removing the whiskey bottle from the space, placing it on the table instead.

Jaqueline carefully lays the flowers down on the table, next to the liquor, before gracefully settling down onto the seat, ensuring a certain distance between herself and the petite writer so as not to crowd the younger woman.

Cautious eyes shining with hurt gaze at the blonde, making her insides turn uncomfortably at the knowledge that she had caused the younger woman pain, that the gap in between them, both physical and emotional, is her fault.

“Jane I…” Her bottom lip trembles slightly as tears suddenly fill her eyes. Swallowing hard before inhaling deeply, she continues. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

The anger in Jane’s body slowly disappears only to be replaced by a deep sense of emptiness, as if there is but a large void of nothing inside of her where all of her emotions are supposed to be. A lonely tear rolls down her cheek as her eyes flutter close upon hearing the regret and the rawness in the blonde’s words.

“I need to be very clear about something, I am not in love with Ian. I don’t want to be with him Jane, I want to be with _you_.” As Jacqueline says the last word, she emphasizes it by cautiously placing a freckled hand upon a pale one and squeezing it affectionately.

Jane’s eyes shoot open at the admission and the fog previously blurring her thoughts seems to lift as a figurative bucket of ice is poured over her with the words. A small tendril of hope lights itself back on fire inside of her, it having been blown out completely when she had seen cracked lips in an embrace with most familiar smooth ones the previous night.

“I will never forgive myself for hurting you, my darling girl, and I need you to know that what you saw last night is the biggest regret of my life. Ian kissed me, but I allowed it to happen.” The nickname causes a pleasant warmth to spread within her as the butterflies in her stomach flap their wings excitedly. Stormy blue eyes drill into misty hazel and Jane feels overwhelmed with the sincerity and anguish portrayed in those beautiful blues.

The brunette flinches at the mention of the kiss that had been the catalyst of the destruction of her world over the past 24 hours but refuses to break their stare. The hand still gently holding hers gingerly intertwines their fingers and begins to rub soothing motions with a manicured thumb on her smooth hand.

“Kissing Ian felt familiar and I suppose that’s why I let him do it for much longer than I should have. It sort of reminded me of the cottage my parents used to take me to every summer when I was younger, we always went to the same place because it was familiar and safe. But after a few weeks there, we would go home and no matter how nice our little trip had been, I would always wind up with extreme homesickness just a couple of days into the trip and I would count down the days until we were going back home again.” Jane’s brows furrow at the odd, seemingly inconsequential story but she listens attentively nonetheless.

“You see, for me going home was never about going back to the safety or the familiar of it, even though it obviously offered both. It was about the love, the love I unapologetically felt for my home. I would force myself to enjoy the trip only because I felt reassured by the knowledge that I would be going back home soon again. The knowledge that it wouldn’t last forever.” Seeing the confusion in hazel eyes, Jacqueline carefully scoots closer to the young writer and lifts her unoccupied hand up to caress a pink tinted cheek.

“I know you think that Ian is my home, but he is not. _You_ are my home Jane. Ian is just the trip I had to suffer through to get to you.” Tears spill out of Jane’s eyes as she takes a deep, shuddering breath. The blonde gently wipes the tears away before lifting the hand still intertwined with her own and placing a featherlight kiss on it.

“What about this morning? He came to the office, but I left before I could hear anything.” The brunette leans into the hand on her cheek as she feels the hope inside of her blossoming further.

Jacqueline rolls her eyes, half in amusement and half in sorrow, at the memory of this morning’s events.

“I made it pretty clear to him that I’m not interested. If throwing his flowers in the trash didn’t get the point across, I don’t know what will.” She smirks at the words and her eyes twinkle at Jane’s dropped jaw.

The hope Jane had been feeling growing inside of her erupts at the confession of the older woman and she allows a smile to tug up the corners of her mouth for a second before her expression turns serious again.

“You’re really willing to risk having a good relationship with your children’s father over me?” She questions apprehensively before beginning to worry her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You are one of the only three people in my life that I could never bare to lose Jane.” Jacqueline’s eyes convey her honesty as she affectionately squeezes the hand still held in her own. “I would risk it all for you.”

Feeling her insecurity fade away at the words, Jane lunges forward, passionately attacking luscious lips, reclaiming them as her own. The blonde lets out a surprised gasp before sinking into the familiar sensation. Manicured hands land on the brunette’s lower back as Jane drags her nails across the blonde’s scalp.

Swiftly swinging her leg over the older woman’s lap to straddle her, Jane deliberately presses their chests against each other, feeling her nipples hardening at the touch. Jacqueline moans at the feeling as her hands slip under the other woman’s oversized sweater, dragging her nails up and down the writer’s spine which causes her to arch into the blonde.

Tugging a nude lip before letting it go with a pop, Jane gently breaks off their kiss. It takes them a few seconds to gather their thoughts as they both gasp for air, but after a little while Jane takes a steadying breath before lifting her gaze to stare into blue eyes.

“Promise me you won’t ever do that again. I wouldn’t be able to cope then.” She begs as the blonde barely wrinkles her forehead at the uncharacteristic desperation in the younger woman’s voice before nodding reassuringly.

Administering soothing motions with her hands on Jane’s pale back, blue eyes drill into hazel ones, ensuring that the brunette’s attention is fully on her before saying anything.

“I love you Jane. I will always love you. I will never want anyone else.” Her eyes shine with unaltered love as she stares passionately into the brunette’s eyes. “So yes, I promise you that I will never, _ever_ , do anything like that again.” Despite the seriousness of her words, she extends her pinky to the younger woman. A broad smile graces Jacqueline’s face as Jane’s pinky intertwines with her own.

The writer lets out a relieved, albeit watery, giggle at their childish actions which prompts the older woman to chuckle lightly as well, both of them feeling as if a massive weight has been lifted off their shoulders.

After a few minutes of laughter, Jane’s expression turns sober once more.

“You should really apologize to Ian for throwing his flowers in the trash. I don’t want the boys to have to grow up with their parents not talking to each other.” Her voice is hardly above a whisper, but Jacqueline hears her clearly, gazing at the brunette curiously.

The suggestion feels like acid on Jane’s tongue, the idea of the blonde alone with the brit, apologizing to him, not sitting well with her, but she swallows loudly, pushing down her rising insecurities while maintaining eye contact with the editor.

“You amaze me, did you know that?” Jacqueline says tenderly as she removes her hands from Jane’s back, bringing them up to hold her cheeks while gazing lovingly into hazel eyes.

Visibly gulping at the utter adoration in those deep blues, Jane allows herself to smile affectionately before schooling her expression back to its expectant look.

Chuckling quietly, Jacqueline tucks a stray strand of hair behind the other woman’s ear before gently caressing a sharp jawline with a manicured finger.

“I will apologize to him tomorrow. Now, I’d like to properly apologize to you, if you’ll let me.” The lust in the editor’s velvety voice causes a wave of arousal to hit Jane.

The brunette’s eyes darken as she licks her lips expectantly, waiting for the other woman to make the first move. Unexpectedly, Jacqueline vaguely gestures for Jane to move aside. As the writer settles down on the cushion she had previously been sitting on, the blonde leans forward to grab the rather large bouquet of carnations abandoned on the table.

Their eyes meet in an intense stare as the editor slowly takes her seat again, kicking the sneakers that has replaced this morning’s Loubotins, of her feet before bringing them up on the seat with her.

“I need you to not doubt my love for you Jane, because I do need you. And I do want you. And I am so _head-over-heels_ in love with you, it’s almost ridiculous.” Jane feels her eyes getting misty for what feels like the hundredth time since the blonde walked through her front door tonight and she reaches over to intertwine her hand with the other woman’s.

“I am so, _so_ , incredibly sorry, both for hurting you and for my actions. Can you forgive me?” Noticing a stray tear rolling down the editor’s cheek, Jane leans forward to kiss it softly before twisting her head to whisper into the older woman’s ear.

“I forgive you. Now can you please show me how much you love me?” She feels Jacqueline’s sharp intake of breath as much as she hears it as she lowers her head slightly, nibbling at an earlobe.

The editor grasps Jane’s shoulder with her free hand, pushing her back gently. Dark eyebrows furrow in confusion for a split second before she registers the flowers still grasped in the blonde’s other hand, currently being crumpled between them.

As Jane sits back down, Jacqueline takes a steadying breath before wordlessly handing the flowers to the petite woman.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you didn’t have to get me flowers you know.” Jane accepts them, appreciating their beauty and inhaling their scent for a couple of seconds before putting them back on the table.

Jacqueline narrows her eyes at this before simply stating:

“I know that I didn’t have to, I wanted to.”

“Thank you. I love carnations.” Jane confesses as she places a hand on the inside of a warm thigh, the heat radiating into her fingertips and spreading all throughout her body.

An audible gasp falls from nude lips at the sudden touch. The blonde allows Jane to massage her thigh for a minute before placing her own hand on top of the pale one on her leg, instantly stopping the brunette’s ministrations.

Jane’s questioning stare soon turns to understanding upon hearing the breathless word coming out of Jacqueline’s mouth.

“Bedroom.”

Her mouth goes dry at the lustful gaze pointed at her combined with the word the staring woman had just spoken and arousal pools low in her belly. She extends a hand to the editor who accepts it, interlocking their fingers as they simultaneously stand.

Once standing, a wave of nervousness suddenly washes over Jane which causes her to squeeze the hand holding hers tightly. Their eyes meet and Jacqueline nods, almost unnoticeably, as if asking if she is okay. Jane swallows down her nerves and nods.

Upon receiving a positive affirmation from the short woman, the blonde gently guides Jane to the bedroom.

Inside the dimly lit room, Jacqueline swiftly spins around while pulling Jane towards her all at once, their lips crashing into each other in a heated embrace.

Curves and edges meld together perfectly like puzzle pieces, the feeling of it causes Jane to sigh in between kisses, relieved to feel the blonde’s body against her own after having convinced herself that she would never experience the sensation again.

Pale hands slip under a see-through shirt, spreading across the soft abdomen Jane finds there before inching towards bra-clad breast. Once she reaches her target, she cups both tits. At the feeling of nipples hardening beneath her hands, Jane moans loudly.

The taller woman pushes Jane towards the wall behind them, never once breaking their embrace. Feeling her back crash into the wall, Jane releases one boob in order to lift one hand to drag it through the fine hairs on Jacqueline’s neck as she removes her mouth from swollen lips, leaving sloppy kisses in a path down to the older woman’s pulse point.

“ _Fuck_.” The editor breathes out as teeth gently sink into her flesh.

Growing impatient, the blonde insistently pulls at the sweater Jane is wearing, indicating she wants it taken off. Silently granting her request, the brunette lifts her arms and in one swift motion pulls the sweater off of her to reveal a braless chest. Jacqueline stops all movements for a second to take in the view. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s seen the younger woman topless, the sight never fails to take her breath away.

Returning to the moment at the feeling of hands unbuttoning her shirt, she helpfully rips it open which causes the buttons to fly all over the place. Jane grins approvingly at the gesture before easily sneaking her hands behind the blonde’s back, unclasping her bra and tugging it and the shirt of all in one quick motion.

Once the clothing is off Jane doesn’t waste any time on latching her mouth around a rosy nipple, eagerly sucking it as manicured fingers fall on her behind, having snuck in under both her sweatpants and her lace underwear.

Licking a path back up to nude lips, she slips her tongue into the editor’s mouth as her butt cheeks are squeezed enthusiastically.

In one rapid motion, Jacqueline lifts Jane up as the brunette hooks her legs around the blonde’s waist. Jane squeezes her hand in between them, sliding her hand down from her lover’s sharp collarbone, briefly stopping at a perky breast to twist a nipple before continuing its trek down, once again stopping momentarily to dip into a shallow belly button before reaching the zipper of the woman’s slacks.

Pulling the zipper down, she sticks her hand in between long legs, cupping Jacqueline’s dripping wet groin through soaked underwear. The editor moans loudly at the touch before pushing away from the sturdy wall, carrying Jane over to the bed to gently lower her down onto it.

At the sight of the younger woman biting her lip, this time not out of worry but rather the opposite, the blonde feels a wave of arousal pool in her lower belly as her breathing grows even more shallow. Upon feeling her hand getting even wetter, Jane groans as the muscles in her thighs involuntarily clench which pulls the taller woman closer to her.

Stepping back slightly to take off her trousers as well as her underwear, Jacqueline instantly feels the loss of the warm hand cupping her. Ignoring the feeling for now, the blonde leans forward to kiss her lover deeply while roughly pulling what’s left of the brunette’s clothing down as well.

Once they are both free of the confinements of clothes, Jacqueline lowers herself down fully onto the glistening body beneath her. They both moan loudly at the feeling of their bare breasts and their over-sensitive centres pressed together.

Not even having realized that her eyes had closed, Jane’s eyelids flutter open only to meet the tender gaze of her lover. They stare at each other intensely for a little while, breathing heavily as their arousal builds.

Sneaking a hand down to the brunette’s soaking vagina, Jacqueline drags her fingers teasingly around the younger woman’s entrance for a bit, captivated by watching Jane’s lungs expand with her sharp inhalation. When she dips the tip of her finger into the entrance, the writer’s back arches off the bed.

Blue meet hazel in a passionate stare, the latter silently begging for more. Deciding that this is not the right time to tease her, Jacqueline happily obeys by instantly thrusting two fingers into the warmth of the younger woman’s body.

Jane moans as she feels the fingers pumping in and out of her at an accelerating speed. Biting her lip, she determinedly slides her hand down in between their sweaty bodies, only to enter the blonde with no warning.

The image of Jacqueline’s mouth in a slight o-shape as her pupils grow wider burns itself into Jane’s mind, filed away for lonely nights.

They continue to stare into each other’s eyes as they both pick up the speed. A soft moan followed by a few select curse words tumble out of lush lips as long fingers curl inside of the brunette.

Feeling her muscles begin to shake as her stomach clenches, Jane flicks her thumb over the older woman’s clit in an attempt to make her come closer to the finish too as the writer is suddenly overwhelmed by the need for them to orgasm together.

Seemingly reading this in her eyes, Jacqueline slows down her movements slightly while Jane picks up the speed.

At the sight of the slight tremble in the blonde’s lower lip, Jane knows the other woman is close. She thrusts her hips down onto the fingers inside of her, indicating a need for an increasing pace which Jacqueline easily fulfils.

It barely takes a minute before both of their muscles clench as a tidal wave of arousal crashes over them. The only sounds heard in the room are their heaving breathing and flesh smacking against flesh.

After an additional minute consisting of them both attempting to catch their breaths and regain function of their bodies, Jacqueline reluctantly pulls her fingers out of the writer’s wet heat as the younger woman does the same to her.

Flopping down onto the mattress next to the brunette, the editor turns to her side, lovingly gazing at the other woman’s side profile until hazel turn to meet blue.

Grasping a smooth hand in her own, the blonde intertwines their fingers before bringing up their hands to her lips, kissing them softly. She allows for them to rest lightly against her mouth as she continues to gaze at Jane unapologetic with her pure adoration for the woman, causing the brunette to squirm slightly.

“ _I love you_.” The whispered words cause a blush to tint pale cheeks as her heart surely skips a beat at the declaration.

Continuing to stare into those deep blues, the knot inside of Jane that had been twisting and turning since last night slowly begins to untie itself. They still have some things they need to talk about, but that can wait until tomorrow. For now, all they want to do is lie there staring into each other’s eyes, both silently thanking their lucky stars that they did not have to go to bed with broken hearts yet another night.

Inhaling deeply, Jane needlessly, but honestly, replies:

“ _I love you too_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know that it sounds cliche and yucky but please do leave kudos and/or comments telling me what you guys think, it would really mean a lot to me! 
> 
> Also, if anyone's wondering I got the inspiration for this story from a song called Halfway there by Rozes (for some reason my mind for a second thought that the song was actually called "Half a dozen roses"), the song is featured on the bold type's soundtrack and it's a pretty good tune if you feel like listening to it.


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